


Spades And Hearts

by Foresklet



Series: A Game Of Cards [1]
Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-10 21:15:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8939638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foresklet/pseuds/Foresklet
Summary: Harry Styles, the owner of a small pub in Sydney, Australia. But lately his life was down in the dumps. Amidst all the rent that was pending, his best friends,  Zayn, Liam and Niall, the pub's horrible condition,  he still remembered his father's last words--- " Be careful, Harry." He was not sure what his father had meant by those words. Up until the time when that beautiful stranger, literally, fell into his life. Surely his father did not want him to fall in love? Right? Or was it something more deadly, darker and mysterious?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, we are trying our hands at this for the first time. That is why we would like you beautiful people to go easy on our writing skills.[you know, we really love Larry]  
> The above note is by my best friend. We are not much, just seventh graders from a distant corner of the Larry Universe.  
> So long,guys!

Prologue

'I can't stay any longer, Harry. They are on my trail.' Louis' glazed blue eyes widened with fear, and a sadness Harry could never have associated with the bubbly personality he was accustomed to. But it _was_ Louis alright, fragile and vulnerable. LIFE, Harry decoded was LOUSY, IMPERFECT, FADING(right now) and whose EPITOME is to destroy everything that has hope, love and a window to happiness.

'Louis, please don't go.' Harry said, imploringly. His mind was screaming. He wanted to back off; wanted to hide himself from a nauseating reality, that was staring him in the face. Because everything was getting deluded; breaking his heart; which was burning with a longing for its missing half.

'Goodbye, Harry.' Louis said it so simply; Harry might not have mattered. _Goodbye, Harry_ banged against Harry's skull. Something left him tongue-tied; an undefined feeling that arose within him out of uncertainty? anger? or something more labyrinthine...

Even as Louis dashed towards the door, even, as the police squad cars circled the pub, sirens whirring, Harry did't know...

He could only picture Louis and all the memories...

Harry could've stopped him... from leaving his life on those unstoppable roller skates... That night Harry wandered into the woods behind his dad's pub,which now belonged to him. The woods were lovely; _different._ The night sky stood an inky canopy of darkness, freckled by the fewest of stars. He felt the cool, night air tickling his skin; and he wondered why nothing lasted forever. If only they had run away. If only Louis had explained. If only...

An owl hooted in the distance, the scuttling of field mice made a sound very much like those of speeding roller skates. And Harry seared with the sudden freshness of heartache. 

 

> Depression is the unseen, unheard, silent killer. It's the pain that's too much to cope with, too hard to deal with and so misunderstood. You can't escape it no matter how hard you try, because it follows you around like a black shadow that's on the inside, eating you.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is us again, letting life rush by.

Chapter 1

'Luke Hemmings.' Harry read from the list in his hand. 'TAYLOR! Taylor, where are you? Please tell, Mr Hemmings, that, he's next!' Miss Swift, Harry's _average-looking_ secretary entered his office, on her flaming pink stilettos. Okay, Taylor wasn't _average -looking_ , with blond hair and blue eyes, but that didn't necessarily have to be... anyway to Harry, her heavy makeup made her look like Harley Quinn from 'Suicide Squad' [ if you've watched the movie, u should get the idea]. And her favourite job was ogling at her employee, while he _fucking_ worked. Typical female cold-blooded predator!

'Let me in, you goddamn big oaf!' A raspy voice interrupted the well dominating silence of Harry's office with its magnificent magnificent royal blue coral walls. He heard Taylor's voice saying 'Shut the fuck up!'

'Someone tell that woman not to cuss. I hate you... TAYLOR! ONE MINUTE, HERE, PLEASE!' Harry shouted.

'Mr Styles-'

'Who's shouting, by Mary?' 

'A prick.'

'What?'

'Yes, sir. I don't know his name, but he has been shouting since this bloody morning.'

'Why?'

'He says he doesn't have all morning and is desperate to be let in,sir. Sir should I inform the cops?'

'For yourself? I certainly would like that.'

'I'll wait outside, sir.' Taylor swiped to the door.

'Miss Swift?'

'Yes?'

'Send him in. Before his hollering splits my eardrums and my lovely, maple-plated door.'

'Yes, sir.'

Taylor left and Harry felt hot enough to explode. His temper had been bobbing near boiling point all morning. He wanted oh-so-badly a bartender for his pub 'Spades and Hearts'. He had advertised online, and till now, nobody had quite fitted the bill. 

'This one is all yours, Mr Styles.' Taylor's words almost flew out of her plum lipstick coated lips. And Harry's door got demolished. Harry's maple plated door from Canada, his favourite, his pride split. Just as he had feared, but it was not the way he had feared.

Then the first thing that Harry saw, was a pair of red and blue roller skates. Yeah, you head it right. A pair of fucking _Oxelo Inline skates._

'Louis William Tomlinson. In case you're wondering, I'm not Nico Wieduwild.'

The roller skates, as in their owner, said. Louis Tomlinson had hopped onto Harry's desk. It was funny how attached the guy seemed to Harry's furniture.

'Nico who?'

'Nico Wieduwild. German skater. But that's not me. I am-'

'Louis Tomlinson. Yeah you said that just now.'

Harry looked up slowly, and...

 _he_ was wearing a blue Superman vest with a white button-down shirt. His caramel colored hair stuck out from beneath a black beanie. His eyes were a deep blue, like the waters of the Pacific Ocean. It appeared calm and serene, but could stir up the most dangerous storms. 'Mr Styles?' Louis was fervently waving his hand in front of Harry's stupefied face. 'I say, Mr Sta-i-ls?' 'Are you singing?' Harry stuttered. He only wondered what this... this _creature_ had in store for him next. He was still in the process of recovering from the inevitable Tomlinson- _itis_ disease. When-

'No? Are you _malade?'_

'What? Did you just say something?'

'Yeah, are you _malade_?'

'Yes...'

'Yes? You are? Harry, do you know what you just said? You...' Louis eyes had laughter and only laughter. The innocent laughter of a child who has just won a game of pirates.

'No...' Harry grinned. 

'Malade, is French for mad, Harry, m'boy.'

'You got me hard, this time. I'll see you for this.'

'Hmm?' Louis was smirking. That _smirk,_ Harry would remember all his life. Because that smirk was  _the beginning,_ the amazing start to the consequences of the most beautiful mistake that Harry ever made. The risk that came with it, but sometimes, you gotta make some rough choices. This life is short, rough choices just improve things a bit.

'You're weird, Mr Styles.' Louis said, smiling.

'Really? Then what are you, Mr Roller Skates?'

'I, am a charming, adorable, exquisite weirdo.'

'That I can see.'

'Then you agree with me?'

'About what?'

'That, I, am a charming, adorable, exquisite weirdo?'

'Yeah!'

'Ok, so gimme the job. I will work and live up to my... uh, rep?'

'Huh? I mean hello? I don't know a damn thing about you. At least tell me something!'

Harry didn't need to know  _anything_. He knew he could trust Louis Tomlinson.  _JUST KNEW._ He asked himself why. But there was no reason, and he knew it. To hell with reasoning, IT IS WHAT IT IS.

'OK!' Louis cleared his throat and used the I LOVE THAILAND paper weight off Harry's desk as a microphone.

'Well, hello there folks, it's a lovely day, isn't it? This is Louis Tomlinson here, with news about, well myself. I'm Louis William Tomlinson, friends call me the TOMMO, LOU, or, simply LOUIS! I live with six monsters, er, sisters, my sweet mother and rowdy father. I am unmarried, and at twenty four,' [Louis stood up on the desk in a Chris Martin way]

'The SEXIEST MAN alive!' ' Wait a minute, guys, that's not all. I live in Doncaster, and if, emphasis, I'm not able to make it out alive after getting this job' tell my mother I loved her and bury me with a carton full of parma ham, stuffed with mozarella sided with homemade mash.'

'One more question,' Harry said, numbly.

'And?'

'Can you sing?'

'Harry, my lad, are you asking Paris Hilton, whether she's good at partying?'

'Umm, no, I guess?'

'Child curly, I'm just kidding. And yes, I can sing. But what has that got to do with the job?

'You haven't read the job description properly, have you? I have a band.'

'You're dacoits?'

'WHAT!'

 'Okay, sorry, you have a band of-'

'Musicians. Are you familiar with this word, Louis?'

Of course. I was just trying to impress you.' Louis batted his eyelashes. Harry rolled his eyes, but couldn't help himself from smiling. 'So tell me, about this band. You people rob hearts?'

'We call our band 'Unique Selling Point. There are four of us, but we need a guy, with a fresh sorta voice and who's ready for the showbiz thing. And, you seem right, so yeah, you'll help me kill two birds with one stone.'

'Unique Selling Point? That's an eeew... name.'

'Eeew name?'

'Obviously. No wonder no one's ever heard of you. They expect you to write songs like "hey, I am the ice cream man, the ice cream man, the...'

'SHUT UP! I thought of it.' Harry stopped him, blushing furiously.

'That more or less explains it.' Louis stated, wincing slightly.

'It does?' Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

'Totally.' 

'So, wise guy, let us hear what you've on offer.'

'Styles-Tomlinson, after marriage.'

'Excuse me?!' Harry was incredulous.

'OK, jokes apart, I think it should be... um... how about One Direction?'

'Okay... and why is that?'

'Because you are only one direction and that's being bloody _hot_?' He winked at Harry; mischieviously, tactfully playing his game. What game, Harry had no idea.

'Can you please elaborate?' Harry asked, wearily.

'Sure. You're hot. Wait, don't get too air headed alright? One Direction just seems, I don't know,  _perfect_?'

'I'll think about it. With the other boys.'

'That reminds me. Who  _are_ the other boys?'

Harry could've shrieked with joy,  when he heard Niall's voice outside the door. Or, where the door used to be.

'Whoa, whoa, whoa; Harry?! Are you in there?' There was astonishment in Niall's voice, or simply awe. Harry thought, shit, the  _door!_

'Come in, Niall!' Harry called out.

'The boys are with me, Hazza!' Niall literally _skipped_ into the room; Liam and Zayn in tow. 

Niall was average height with chestnut hair dyed blond. And, a GREAT food enthusiast. Liam, was tall, muscular and warm eyed. Zayn looked something of a Greek god. Mostly Apollo, just, dark haired and rather dreamy charcoal eyes. 

'Who's the... matador?' Niall glanced up at Louis, upright on top of Harry's favourite desk. 

'Hi, cheese boy! Meet the famous, Swagmaster; From, Doncaster!' Louis whooped.

'Yo, Swagmaster from Doncaster, you seem right up our league. Welcome to Spades and Hearts, bro.' Niall whooped back, in his trademarked Irish accent.

'Wait, Harry?'

'Yes, Zayn?'

'Is  _this_  the new bartender?'

Harry nodded silently and Louis did a fist pump.

'Harry?'

'Yes, Liam?'

'Don't tell me, he's, our new...'

'He  _is_ our new band member.'

'Harry?'

'Yes, Niall?'

'I love him!'

'HARRY!' 

'Y-yes? Liam? Za- Zayn?'

'What the hell?!!!!'

Harry had been afraid Zayn and Liam weren't going to digest this so easily. And certainly not after Louis'  _performance_ .

Harry noticed the hug Niall and Louis exchanged and sighed with relief. At least Niall had accepted Louis. Forget Zayn, he never agreed with anyone. But not Liam too... They both stood; staring at them; arms crossed in front of their chests, wearing prominent Vader Darth expressions.

'What?' Harry asked, simply.

'Can he do anything apart from breaking doors? I mean, you of all people, Harry, should know the credentials necessary here, at Unique Selling Point?' Zayn said, scowling.

'I can break  _bones_ of those, who deny the abilities of the infamous Tommo!' Louis slid down the desk; landing flawlessly beside Zayn.

Niall was  _laughing_ , trying to supress a crazy urge to laugh bubbling in the pit of his stomach. 'Oi Harry, darling, keep him. He's priceless, buddy!' 

'Can he sing?' Liam said, ironically.

And shit, amidst all the havoc Harry had forgotten to take his singing interview. 'He..'

'Then we can't have him.' Liam cut him off.

And trust Louis to do the most stunning thing. No, he  _did not_ climb the Everest, nor did he make chocolate mozarella;  _he started singing!_

_'Oh it's what you do to me/ oh it's what you do to me/ What you do to me...'_

 Harry recognized the song. It was Hey There Deliah by the Plain White T's. 

 _And_ , when Louis finished singing, [Niall had been dancing], Liam and Zayn were smiling; slowly;

'Appreciative; THE Tommo;' Liam told him. Louis grinned and saluted in mock respect.

'Hats off, Michael Jackson.' Zayn saluted back.

'Welcome to USP.' Liam said.

'Wait...' Harry retorted.

'What, this guy is marvellous.' Niall chirped. 

'But...' Harry knew Louis was more than... just those ten words put together. This odd feeling was termed jealousy. A feeling Harry was alien to. He didn't want to share Louis,  _his_ Louis with the other guys. Not Niall, not Zayn, not Liam... even though he knew it was wrong,  _all good things were meant to be shared_...

'Harry don't fuck up now.This kid can really sing. Quit behaving like an old grand pa.' Zayn said, teasingly.

'Hey!'

'Don't worry, curly. I'll have you in my life. Even for an old grand pa.' Louis said, supportively. 

Harry should not have blushed. But he did. God this man had got him running... for more of  _him_. 

'Louis,' Harry said, softly. He felt composed; ready; secure; content. 'Welcome home.'

_Happiness is like a soda. It's sweet, fizzy, and doesn't last very long. You have to enjoy happiness before it goes flat._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Name of our wattpad account is @smsa_bffs


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Readers!

Chapter 2

Harry was sitting on the window seat of his bedroom, looking at the sunset. The sun was sinking fast, soon it dropped below the horizon; painting the sky with a hundred shades of orange, tinged in grayish pink. _The day has matured ._ Harry reasoned. It's beauty at the time of sunrise; vibrant, youthful beauty. Time had made it more tantalising, turning vibrancy into serene quiet enchantment. He closed his eyes, letting the warm breeze from the Tasman Sea soothe his brain. It was just another day of his life. He had no idea where the other boys were. He was fucking tired after their five hour long concert at Mojo Jo's Night Club. His mind drifted...

_'Dad' 'Dad'  Harry was running around their two storied house in Redditch; wildly searching for his father._

_'In here, Harry,' the voice came from inside the house. Hearing it, Harry advanced towards the well furnished living room. Desmond Styles was sitting on a mesh backed chair, reading Nothing Lasts Forever. Desmond Styles was tall, a few inches short of Harry; with a pair of passionate brown eyes. Harry was excited; very excited at that._

_'Dad, you, are, not, going, to, believe this!' Harry breathed. 'I've been accepted at The University Of Sydney!'_

_Harry waited, noting the expression on his father's face. 'Dad... don't you... aren't you happy?'_

_Desmond stood up. He took Harry's face in his hands; gnarled and hard with work._

_'Harry I'm delighted. It's brilliant and... But... I'm so scared Harry... of losing you. We've been together all these years and this is the first time you're... you're leaving me. You're going abroad... a thousand miles apart. Maybe forever...'_

_'I'll come back... when you call me.' Harry's eyes welled up. He felt closer to his father, more than ever before. He acknowledged the lie... he wouldn't be able to come back... whenever his dad called him. This wasn't preschool..._

_And Desmond knew it too... 'You'll come back only if you can...'_

'And... the Tommo is BACK! Now presenting... Ke- Vin!' The robust, enthusiastic voice of Louis William Tomlinson jerked Harry back to the place of his decision. Which he regretted more than wearing a pink fluffy muffler on his eleventh Birthday. 

'LOU-IS?' Harry squinted up. Louis was wearing a Gryffindor House T-shirt which glowed red in the blazing halo of the later hues of after sunset. 

'Y-UP!' 

'Did you say Kevin?' 

'Y-UH!'

'Who's he? Where were you?'

'Just walking. Kevin's a friend of mine.'

'Where is he?' 

'He's a bird! TA DA!'

And from behind Louis, dawned a brown-black pigeon. Yup,  _a pigeon._

'Harry my boy, meet Kevin. Uh Kevin, shake hands.' Louis said; he gave Kevin's beak a loving tickle with his perfect fingers.

 The dratted bird! Harry gritted his teeth as his hatred for the bird mounted. Louis didn't seem to notice, he went about cooing and gurgling fond words at Kevin. As if it would understand... 

'Harry don't you like my new pal?' Louis asked, suddenly.

'Of course, why not? He's  _totally_ cute.' Harry muttered, grudgingly.

 

. 'Hmmm, exactly what I thought you'd say.'

'Louis?'

'Harry?'

'Where's this  _bird_ planning to stay?'

'I was gonna recommend the recording studio. Kevin has agoraphobia.'

'Agarophobia?'

'No, agoraphobia. It's the fear of...'

'Okay, okay, I get it. But...'

'Thanks, Harry.'

Just as Harry was about to turn around, Kevin hopped off Louis' shoulder and flew towards Harry.

'Wow, Haz, looks like Kevin has an eye for handsome guys.' Louis commented.

Harry blushed. Like, come on, Louis "freaking" Tomlinson had just called him handsome. Indirectly, but who cared?

Except his happiness was very short lived. 'Cause Kevin was a cock eyed cunt. He pooped, bloody pooped on Harry's million dollar shirt. That sticky, greenish slime crawled down Harry's collar.

'What the fuck?!!' Harry shrieked.

'Oops, I'm sorry. Naught bird, Kevin!'

'You think it's funny? Your dick face of a pet just about ruined my favourite shirt!' 

'Wanna borrow mine?' Louis said, calmly.

It was a Gryffindor T-Shirt. Harry Edward Styles didn't like Harry Potter. The reason mainly being all the ragging he had to face in middle school about him being as geeky green eyed as Harry Potter. Some people didn't like being compared with the bespectacled wizard hero. They even shared the same first name!

'No!' Harry snapped, anger evident in his voice. 

  

''Awww, my Hazzabear is angry. Say sorry to him, Kev.'

The pigeon cooed and landed on Louis' shoulder. And Harry just about died. His shirt was unofficially the most unlucky shirt in the whole universe. Not to say a victim of pigeon poop. But it  _was precious_ to Harry. It was a gift from his dad for his twentieth birth day. 

_Harry was leaning on the balcony of Sydney University. It was his birthday. And none of his friends had remembered. He felt sad; obstinate. It wasn't fair. And then Martin, the errand boy of the University had come running to him, holding an air mail package. Inside it had been a card which said " Happy b-Day, Harry." Des had sent it. And would be the very last gift Desmond Styles was ever going to send. The Tommy Hilfiger shirt was two years old and Harry cherished the warm feel of it whenever he slipped it around his shoulders._

So, he was pretty mad at Louis. His bird had destroyed an important artifact from Harry's memory. 'Just get lost, okay?!!'

Harry retired to his room and slammed the door.

  

'Harry, Harry; open the door.' Niall's loud, cheerful voice rang out. 

'Go away, Nialler, I'm not feelin' well.' Harry replied.

'Stop talking shit and lemme in.'

Harry sighed and trudged to the door. 

'What do you want?' 

'What happened?' Niall inquired.

'What?' Harry asked, dumbfounded.

'Dear Hazza, have you somehow managed to lose your sense of vocabulary and grammar?'

'What?'

'Shut up and tell me about whatever the shit happened between you and Louis.'

Harry blanched. He didn't really want to share it, but then again, Niall  _was_ his closest friend.

'We broke up.' Harry grumbled, semi consciously.

'What?!!' Niall leapt away from Harry; like Harry was a ginormous venom spitting cheese pizza! And, Niall was NEVER afraid of food.

'OH MY GOD! I'm sorry, I really am sorry. I meant to say we had a quarrel.' Harry said quickly.

'Yes, never ever again say you are breaking up. What will I fucking do without my parents?' Niall said and Harry shot him a venomous glare.

'So, why were you two successful in announcing the next World War?'

'Niall please, it's serious.' Harry gave a weary sigh.

'Okay, fine, tell me.' Niall held up his hands in surrender.

'Promise you won't laugh.'

'Pinky promise on Hillbilly's Chicken in Cork.'

 'Louis got a bird. A stupid pigeon named Kevin.'

'A bird?' Niall's china blue eyes lit up with amusement. As if he had found a new victim to rag on.

'Yup, a pigeon, and the dratted fellow-'

'Pooped on your shirt?' Niall completed Harry's sentence.

'Whoa Sherlock! How in Hades did you...'

'The  _stain_ is still visible to naked eyes.' Niall pointed at Harry's collar.

'Ugh, I know, it sucks, dude.'

'OK, get on with the story.' 

And then Harry started retelling the interesting... uh... bird incident story...

'Where is Lou?' Niall asked, or better still shuddered. He was shaking with mirth.

'I have no idea.' Harry shrugged.

Zayn hurried into the room, looking flustered. He had on a deep magenta sweater, charcoal gray chinos that matched his eyes perfectly and a checked shirt. '

'Louis is crying his heart out.' He conveyed.

'Why the - wait, Harry?' Niall's glanced at Harry, clearly accusing was his expression.

Harry ignored Niall and turned innocently to Zayn. 'Why is he crying, Zayno?'

'His bird, flew away.'

Harry could've sold his pub to Zeus, he was so happy. He let out a whoop, before he could control himself.

'Kevin. Flew. Away?!! Kevin, flew away, Kevin. Flew AWAY!'

'Harry?... are you, like alright... and everything?' Liam asked.

'YEAH... sorry, I-I'm okay. I'm so...  _sorry..._ poor Louis... poor Louis... yeah POOR LOUIS! he must be so depressed! I-I'll go and console him. By my lovely Apollo, I'm so...  _lucky_ !'

Harry pumped his fists in the air, skipping in exultation.

Louis' door said "DO NOT DISTURB".

'LOUIS! Get your skinny ass out here!' Harry was literally shouting at the top of his voice.

'Harry?' A choked sort of voice came in reply.

Louis' door flew open and a Louis whirled into Harry's arms resembling an incoming tornado.

'Hazza, he left me. He fucking left me!' 

'Louis for my sake he only was a bird.' 

'And Hazza, darling Hazza I'm so glad you're by my side at this time of grief.' 

Harry suddenly smelt a rat. Not a ferret, not a brown pigeon, a rat.

'Louis? Louis? Can you get off me? You're... Louis, your tears have washed away the poop.' Harry said, mockingly.

'What! my tears? But... '

'Louis... babe, could you wrap up this whole William Shakespeare thing? 'Cause it's not gonna work. You're not crying?!!'

Louis raised his face, still wrapped in Harry's embrace. His ocean blue eyes seemed to shimmer and crash under the eyelids. Looking into them, was like looking through a fragile piece of turqoise sea glass which spread beneath the panorama Harry's emerald green orbs offered. They bore into each other... Louis' eyes held laughter while Harry had amusement preserved within those sparkling emeralds.

'I gotta stay I am impressed, Mr Styles.' Louis said at last.

                                                                                                                   

                                                                                

 

                       

                                                    

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

'Harry, ummm,' Louis started fidgeting. 'I'm...

'Oh sorry...' Harry disentangled himself from Louis' warmth and voila, not a second passed but he was bloody missing it.

'Uhhh... Harry, I didn't mean to sound so rude. I, ... there were cramps in my feet, because I was standing in that ballerina pose for quite a while.' Louis smiled sheepishly.

'Oh small boy, I see. No problem, I still love you.' Harry winked. 

'Oops, getting feisty, are we? _Pas de probleme, monsieur_ Harry, I'd love to get feisty with you in the near future, baby girl.' Louis winked back.

'I'm not a girl, I'm a foot taller than you. I'm 5'11''.'

'Whoa, Aristotle, I'm 5'8''. Okay?????! That's just three inches.'

'My bad, well, I can't leave like this, as _**your**_ pigeon...' Harry pointed at his shirt.

'Pardon me, kind sir. But, having said that, fixing problems is one of The Tommo's many great abilities.' Louis said. 'Hand over the shirt.'

'Well, you've certainly done the deed of releasing the Nemean lion inside me. Uhh...'

'Aren't you supposed to say something?'

'Um... thank you?'

' _Vous êtes les bienvenus,_ Mr Styles.' 

'What does that mean, by ravioli?'

'That means you're welcome...' Louis chuckled.

'Okay...'

'Okay...?'

'Yeah, I mean yeah, I get it.'

'Good. I'm proud of you.'

'Umm, the shirt?'

'Here you go...'

And lemme say this, if the circumstances were tad different, Harry would've blushed. But he didn't... instead he smirked... if things got too far, those extra three hours at the local gym would pay off...

He unbuttoned his shirt, slowly, noting those electric blue eyes, lingering on him. 

'Here is my shirt, ' Harry waved the shirt in front of Louis' face.

Louis was in Huge Trouble...

It wasn't just those droolworthy six packs that cast a spell on Louis, it was just about everything, the silent, eyes of seafoam, the tall, lanky frame... mile long legs, wrapped in skinny jeans. His skin was like flawless porcelain, tinged with a pink, undying glow...

'...longer' Louis heard that, though it made no sense... it was just a mere word...

But it was Harry's word...

Harry's drawl... Harry's voice...

He wanted to cherish it forever... everyday... but some things... are just not meant to be... true...

Dreams... they are best when we close our eyes and picture a world, where there probably wouldn't be an Osama Bin Laden... or World Wars, where Romeo wouldn't have to die... it would go on and never come to an end... but you have to fucking wake up at some point...

'Yesss... Harry... I didn't quite get you... What were you saying?'

'Umm I was telling you to take a picture... that way I'll last longer' Harry replied. 

'Okay...'

 

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, you lovelies, we have some important announcements  
> 1) First of all, this story has been written by my best friend and me  
> 2) So the author's note can get confusing at times  
> 3) This story is un-betad so please ignore the mistakes (if there are any)  
> 4) And last but not the least, we are so sorry because the prologue is so fucking short. But please give this story a chance. I'm sure you'll LOVE it.  
> Comments and kudos are much appreciated . Next chapter will be up soon.
> 
> Lots of love  
> The BFFs


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